


tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.

by Princex_N



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s08e17 Heal Thyself, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22635277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: It's the middle of the night, and BJ is supposed to be taking over the next shift in Post OP.Hawkeye can't stop thinking about Newsome.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce & Everyone
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.

**Author's Note:**

> for @Shelmfair who requested: **"something set immediately after the end of the episode Heal Thyself"**. I hope this is something close to what you wanted!
> 
> title is from Richard Siken's "Crush"

Hawkeye is supposed to be waking BJ up so that he can take over in Post OP. 

He can't quite get his feet to move.

Hawkeye had volunteered to take the first shift because he'd known that the last thing he wanted was to try and sleep after the incident with Newsome. Some things he knows better than to attempt, especially by this point in his life. Still, he'd somehow neglected to account for the fact that a night shift in a hospital short on staff meant that he'd spend a lot of that time quiet and alone. 

Thinking back, it probably wasn't the best idea, but the best ideas are rarely achievable over here. 

His feet feel anchored in the doorway, staring blankly at BJ's sleeping face from across the tent, feeling like his head is simultaneously completely empty and running at twice the usual chaos. Post OP needs a doctor on call, Potter and Charles are still sick, and Hawkeye is familiar enough with his own exhaustion to know that it shouldn't be him. He needs to wake BJ up and tell him to go take over.

He can't stop thinking about what BJ had said when they'd gone to call Sydney. _"We have something Newsome didn't... each other."_

Hawkeye hadn't been able to admit that sometimes that scares him too. 

He needs to wake BJ up and send him off, but he gets the feeling he shouldn't quite be alone, but what other options are there? Force himself into Potter's tent and sit there in silence while they sleep off the mumps ( _just like Newsome had)?_ Go back to Post OP and fake like he's fine to keep working? Trying not to haunt between the beds too long while he tries to outpace his own terrors? 

_God_ , he can't think. 

He climbs into BJ's cot before he can think twice about it, pulling back the cheap blanket and pressing in close, distantly grateful that Charles' side of the tent is currently empty.

BJ stirs faintly, one of his arms coming around Hawkeye's shoulder instinctively, and Hawkeye shouldn't be indulging in this. He presses his face against BJ's chest anyway, his hands fisted in the fabric of BJ's shirt like if he pulls hard enough he'll be able to forget the negligible space between them entirely. Two bodies into one space. 

"What's up?" BJ asks hazily, but Hawkeye just shakes his head. 

The thoughts are spiraling fragments in his head but the last thing he wants is to talk about them. The thing about being the one everyone depends on is that it's so difficult to finally admit that you're just as fucked up as the rest of them.

(It's not like they don't already know. Hawkeye's been around longer than most of them by now, they've all seen each other at new rock bottoms at one point or another. Alcohol dependence, screaming night terrors, belligerent meltdowns; sure, they've seen it all, but it's still another thing entirely to _admit_ it.) 

He hadn't really meant for things to get this far. The jokes have been a thing since Hawkeye was a kid (alone in a quiet house, with a father trying to drown himself in work and a mother too sick to take care of anything, much less him, and if Hawkeye could help by making her laugh and fooling her into thinking that he was strong enough to not be terrified by the sight of her so sick then what other choice did he have? Habits that kept building up because Hawkeye learned young that the world _hurt_ and as long as he keeps joking about it he can keep himself pretending that his hands don't bleed oceans from holding all those broken shards at arm's length), and guys like Trapper made it easy to fuck around and try to pretend like he was anywhere else but here. But somehow a poor coping mechanism kept going until one day Hawkeye looked up from a gaping hole of gore and metal and saw that other people were _depending_ on that, and what other choice did he have but to keep going?

Hawkeye depends on it too, of course. He just wishes that none of them had to in the first place. 

"Still thinking about Newsome?" BJ asks, waking up a bit more and opting to be nosy and _helpful_ instead of just dwelling in the quiet anxiety properly. 

Hawkeye doesn't answer, but the stubborn press of his face into BJ's chest says it all for him. 

BJ hums, squeezing Hawkeye closer. "Okay. What's eating at you?" 

Even if Hawkeye was inclined to talk about it, he's beyond putting it into words now. It sounds pathetic, feels _selfish_ , to get so tangled up in this fear. Like he's the only one who's worried. As if he's the only one with any skin in the game. The only one in any danger.

(But it's _not_ just him, is it? It's the thought of Radar gone home and unable to adjust, of Henry never making it home in the first place, of little Erin Hunnicutt looking up at BJ's shell-shocked stare with the same dread they'd looked at Newsome with. It's any of them. It's all of them. The threat of Hawkeye crumbling under the weight of keeping them up is nowhere _near_ as terrifying as the thought of his weak support not being enough to pull the rest of them through.) 

"I see," BJ says when Hawkeye stays silent. "Compelling argument. I can tell that our earlier conversation really had a positive impact." 

"What if that's the problem?" Hawkeye asks finally, forcing the words out of the clamp vice of his throat. "What if it's not enough? What if that's what breaks us?" 

He doesn't know exactly who the 'us' is. Maybe it's just him, hiding away in a group of excuses. Maybe he means every single one of them, any and all. Or maybe just the two of them together - them and the thing between them that they'll never talk about but both know is always going to be there. 

Hawkeye feels BJ's cheek roll to press down against the top of his head. "What if what isn't enough? Me? You?", he asks. "It's not down to just one of us." Hawkeye shrugs as best as he can, all tangled up like he is. "It's not all up to you." 

"They depend on me," he argues. "So do you." 

(Sometimes Hawkeye wonders if he hadn't needed that at first. Trapper recently gone and this fresh-faced kid to replace him, and it had been easy to set aside the gaping hole in his side to help with BJ's polite confusion, his distraught retching in the dirt. Hadn't it helped, at least a little? Hawkeye has always been good at helping others in place of himself.) 

"Sure," BJ says easily. Like it doesn't scare him. Like it isn't terrifying. "You depend on us, too. That's the _point_ , Hawk. It's not ever down to just one of us. If you fell, if I fell, if both of us fell together, there'd be others around. Margaret, Potter, Klinger, Mulcahy,-" and Hawkeye sputters out a weak laugh at the way BJ determinedly rattles off names. 

"Alright, alright," he says, interrupting before BJ gets a chance to list everyone in camp. "I get it." 

The humor sits for a while, the tension loosening. "You're not alone, Hawkeye," BJ says seriously, once their smiles have faded. "You're not ever going to be." 

"Not if you have anything to say about it?" 

"Damn right. Not if _any_ of us have anything to say about it." 

He pulls Hawkeye in closer, an impressive feat at this point in their endeavor to occupy the same square foot of space, but Hawkeye still appreciates it. The heat of their bodies, the smooth rise and fall of BJ's chest under Hawkeye's head, the steady pressure of his arms - it helps, maybe even more than his words had. 

"They need you in Post OP," Hawkeye tells him, because he just loves yanking the rug out from under his own feet. 

BJ shrugs, settling in a little further. "They can wait another five minutes," he says confidently. 

Hawkeye should argue, press the issue, get him out of here before something happens or someone comes looking. If nothing else, because it's the right thing to do, it's what's expected of them. 

But BJ is on a roll tonight when it comes to having good points, and more than that, Hawkeye is comfortable - the sharp edges of his thoughts smoothing out enough that he might actually get some sleep, hopefully before BJ does actually get up. 

For the next five minutes, it's nice to relax into it. Pretend like it doesn't have to end any time soon, act like they can stay like this a little longer. 

(Fake, just for a little while, that all the _hell_ out there can stay where it is, and leave them both - leave them _all_ \- untouched. At least for a while. At least for now.) 

**Author's Note:**

> me writing a character press their cheek against another's head: this is PEAK physical affection. It Does Not Get Better Than This.
> 
> [my tumblr](http://www.princex-n.tumblr.com)


End file.
